The Troubled Brotherhood
by TurnerRocks
Summary: The story of a detective trying to solve a series of murders and has to find the killer by learning the story of of the murderer's childhood
1. Chapter 1

Prologue 

As detective Joel Johnson drank his morning coffee he was thinking about how much better it was than the stuff at the station. He didn't go to Starbucks often, but today he went because it was the best he could get on such short notice.

He had to hurry over to the Carlston City Penitentiary. It was seventy miles east down Highway 1 close to Edmonton. He hated going that far for a case, but pickings were slim these days.

The coffee in his hands started to get down to the last drink so he just chugged down the rest. He had to hurry. He was only an hour away from the interrogation. He jumped into his car

It was an old, red Buick and was close to its last mile. It was scary that the car had lasted over 20 years without being replaced. He always meant to sell it but instead fell in love with it (his wife was always saying that he loved the car more than her).

The inside of his car was white leather. It was very hot in the summer and cold in the winter. He was proud that he hadn't gone with black because imagine how hot that would be. His windows were tinted in the back but he never noticed it (there was almost no difference at all).

He looked into his side mirror to back up and saw his face. His head was egg shaped and he had caterpillar eyebrows. His hair was white (although it had used to be brown). But the thing that caught his eye was that he was starting to bald.

"Oh damn!" he exclaimed, "Pretty soon I'll have no hair at all."

The reason he was so angry was because he was getting old. His retirement party was in a few weeks and this was his last case. Retirement was his greatest fear (and not because he didn't want to stay home with his bitter, old wife!).

He started into first gear and drove down Castle Avenue. He would drive down to Highway 1 from here. He stopped at the first traffic light of his trip.

All he could think about now was his latest case. It involved a convict that had been in jail since thirteen years old. He killed his brother as a kid. He just recently killed eight more people last week and says he didn't do it.

"What a liar." Detective Joel Johnson mumbled. He didn't know how someone could get away with eight murders and still get an investigator (not to mention a private investigator).

Detective Joel Johnson turned onto Highway 1.

-- -- -- -- -- -- --

He pulled up to Carlston City Penitentiary an hour later. It was not the usual prison. The fences were low and it was minimum security. The honour system was the main rule. Try to escape and you serve another life sentence.

Carlston wasn't even a city. It was more of a town (smaller than Red Deer but bigger than Grande Prairie). It was very rustic and old, filled with retired citizens (he supposed he would come to live here one day).

He parked in the very small parking lot and got out of his Buick. Then he walked through the unguarded prison doors to the prison.

The inside was very small. It looked big from the outside, but the rooms were cramped with desks. There were people behind the desks and most were asleep.

"Hello," a voice from behind him said, "I'm Greg Greenfeild. I'm the warden around here."

The man behind Joel was as skinny as a toothpick and had dark, chestnut brown hair. He was quite tall and wore a green army uniform.

"Hi," Joel replied. He was unsure what to say next.

"I'll bring you to Richard Statson's cell," the warden said with a strange and worried tone in his voice.

Joel followed the warden down the dank, dark hallway to the end of the jail. The convicts all stared at him along the way. Most of them had scars on their cheeks and black eyes. Just one of the many prizes for getting thrown into the slammer.

They came upon Richard Statsons cell. But Joel didn't see a murdering monster. He saw a timid little man sleeping on his bed. He was very muscular, but he was really small.

"Wake up you sonofabitch!" the warden shouted. The warden's face had turned all red as if he were embarrassed.

The convict got up and wiped his dark blue eyes. Joel suddenly had a change of heart. This man couldn't be a criminal. Not with all the fear and suffering beyond those eyes.

"I'm so sorry warden," Richard said with his eyes getting full of more fear, "I didn't mean to fall asleep."

"Hello Richar-"

"Call me Richy!" Richard exclaimed.

"Okay… Hello Richy. I'm Detective Joel Johnson. You can call me Detective J-J. Now let's talk about what is going on here." Joel said. He felt sorry for this man and now he wanted to prove that this man was innocent.

"That's good!" Richy exclaimed, "I have an important story to tell!"

Soon to be retired, Detective Joel Johnson stepped into Richard Statsons' cell to hear the story of the century.


	2. Chapter 2

Part 1: The Contest

The alarm clock went off. The signal of a new summer day. Summer had just begun yesterday and there were many days left.

I stepped out of bed and gave a good, long stretch. Then he yawned and pulled up the blinds. Beautiful summer light flooded into my room. It was a nice day in Longmoore, Alberta.

"Richy! Time for breakfast!" one of my parents yelled.

So Richy through on some clothes and ran down the stairs to the kitchen. My younger brother Scott was already sitting at the table with a goody-two-shoes expression on his smug little face.

"Good morning sleepy head," Scott said in his 'jokes on you' voice.

"Get bent," I whispered to him. I hated when he tried to show me up and prove that he was better than me.

He reacted with a devilish grin that only he could do. It scared the hell out of me. He sure knew how to make me angry.

"Now Scott, I mean Richard," my dad started. Since my brother and me were identical twins, I was used to my dad screwing up my name.

"Could someone go and grab the mail?" my mom asked. But she wasn't just asking, she was ordering. My mom never asks a yes or no question when it comes to doing work.

Scott jumped up and sprinted to the door. This was probably because his _Alberta Science_ magazine came today. He loved it because it always had interesting contests and other stuff that only nerds would do. My brother may be smart but he has no style.

He only wears golf shirts and dress pants. At school he sucks up to every teacher and never gets into trouble. He even started the school newspaper and is in the Science Club and the Chess Club.

He is an absolute NERD! He even thinks that he is better than everyone. He needs to be taught a lesson. A very good lesson if I want him to change.

That is when I thought of a great idea. I could play a practical joke on him that would leave him senseless. But what kind of joke could I play?

Scott came running back with the mail and his magazine. He had a huge smile over his face. I knew that he must have found himself a fun contest.

"I'm going into space!" he shouted. It was a contest.

"What?" my dad asked. I was pretty lost too. How does a 13 year old go into space?

"My magazine says that there is a contest," Scott replied, "I need to submit a report about what I know about space, and they send me up out of the atmosphere."

"You mean that Canada is sending children up into space?" I questioned, "Why would we do that?"

"Well it says here that Canada wants more attention going to the space program," my brother answered as the smile on his face got larger, "It sounds pretty cool!"

"Well then son," my dad said, "you better start writing."

The contest that would change our lives forever had begun.

-- -- -- --

My brother: the first child into space. An astronaut! The likelihood is low. But who cares.

Wait… Why can't I be an astronaut? I'm more physically fit and a little bit braver. He just wants show me up again! The bastard!

I'll write my own report and it will kick his reports ass! Well… Time to start writing!

I ran over to my desk and grabbed a pencil and some paper. I was going to win this contest! I began to write:

Space Essay

By Richard Statson

I know a lot about space and I want to win that contest. I am a good astronaut because I am fisically fit. I am not the best in the brain work though. I can't spell big words and I don't have a good attention span. But I do

"Screw this! I'm going to play video games!" I shouted. Writing really made me angry.

So I turned on my Xbox and started to play my favourite video games. I was having a great time; until my brother came in.

"Hey bro," Scott said. He stopped doing his essay. He probably gave up too. What a relief!

"Why aren't you doing your essay?" I asked him.

"I'm done," he replied. I knew that I had judged him wrong.

He pulled out his essay. It was eighty pages long and it was typed up. It was even laminated. He did all the extra work.

Then he snatched it from me and ran downstairs to go and mail it. He was already done after one day of work.

Then I turned off my video games as my mom yelled at me to come down for lunch.

-- -- -- -- -- --

My brother returned from the post office. He had an extremely large smile on his face. Then he sat down at the table so he could eat his smoked salmon sandwich.

It was his favourite. That is so disgusting. How could he eat a sandwich with fish in it? It is just crazy! Is my brother from another planet or something?

"So how is your essay coming along, dear?" my mom asked. She probably wasn't even listening. You know how some mothers are.

"I'm done and it has been mailed," my brother replied as he swallowed the last of his sandwich.

"Wow!" my mom said. She might have been listening. I can never tell.

Then I went upstairs to play more video games. I didn't care about my brother's essay. All I cared about was plotting revenge for everything that he had done to me.

I entered my room and flipped over my essay. Then I took out a pencil and began to write out my terrible plans.

All I could think of now was that stupid contest. That was how I planned to plot my revenge. Maybe sabotage or even copying his essay. Those were both good options. But I needed something better. A lot better!

-- -- -- --

It was about 6 o'clock in the morning when we got the call. The ringing of the phone echoed through the dark, silent house. No one was awake yet.

But I was the one that had the phone beside my bed. I almost jumped out of my skin when I heard the phone. Then I discovered what was going on and answered the phone before anyone else woke up.

"Hello," I said in a very tired and confused voice. Who in their right mind would call at 6 o'clock?

A dry and raspy voice was on the other end of the line. "Can I speak to Scott Statson?" The voice said in its raspy voice.

I felt a shiver run down my spine. Then I whispered into the receiver of the phone, "What is your business with my Scott?"

I heard deep, heavy breathing on the other end of the line. Then finally the voice said in its dry voice, "C'mon kid. I don't have all day."

So I stepped out of bed and stumbled as I discovered that my legs were still asleep. So I had to force my legs to walk me to my brother's room.

T he thoughts I had of the person on the other end of the phone were absolutely terrible. I didn't want to be the cause of my brother being kidnapped. Or worse.

Then I entered into my brother's room. He had posters of John Grisham and Tom Clancy. Much different from my posters of Ryan Smith and Duane Roloson. His room also had a computer and a huge bookshelf full of books by every author I can think of.

He was still sleeping so I new an easy way to wake him up. I went up very close to his ear and screamed his name.

He almost hit the ceiling I had scared him so bad. It was hilarious!

"What the hell are you doing!" my brother screamed. He was red in the face from anger and embarrassment.

"Phone," I simply explained. I handed him the phone.

"Yes. Uh huh. Yes. Okay. Thank you." My brother said into the phone. Then he hung it up.

"So what is so important that I had to wake up?" I asked.

Scott jumped up onto his bed and screamed, "YIPPEE! WOOHOO! I WON! I WON! I WON!!!"

That screaming woke up our parents and they were furious. They stormed into my brother's room and asked, "What is going on in here!"

"I won the contest mom," Scott answered, "I have a one in ten chance of being on the next shuttle."

My mouth dropped open in amazement although I already knew that this would happen.

-- -- -- -- --

When my brother told my parents that he had won the essay contest they practically hit the roof. My brother started to tell them, "The contest is Tuesday and I will be competing against nine other contest winners for a chance to be on a space ship."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. My brother was going to be famous, yet I would never be recognized; unless someone thought that I was my brother. I could be walking down the street and someone could yell, "Hey! That's Scott Statson, he went into space!"

That would be a laugh. I've always hated it when people get me mixed up with my brother.

"Richy!" Scott shouted. He had his smug expression plastered to his face. "Are you still alive? You look like you drifted into another world."

My brother's irritating laugh begins. It annoys me when he laughs. His laughing sounds more like a girlish squeal than a laugh. It could drive me crazy.

I scurry away from my brother and his squealing. I rush up the stairs and head towards my room. I slam the door shut behind me and suddenly everything is quiet. I can hear the sound of the wind blowing the leaves outside my bedroom window.

Then the silence is broken by a tapping on the door. I open it expecting to see Scott, but I see my father looking down at me. My dad is a very muscular guy with a buzzcut. He is always wearing green and brown, dressed the way he would have when he still was in the army.

"Richy," my dad began in his rough, blunt voice, "We would like you to pack up a suitcase. We will be leaving at nine hundred hours for the flight to Toronto."

"Yes, sir."

My dad leaves the room and closes the door behind him. I walk over to my closet and start the search for a duffel bag. My closet is full of junk that I never throw away. My dad calls me a pack rat, but I'm just plain unorganized.

I finally pull out a bag and begin to toss t-shirts and boxers into it. I through in my worst clothes with high hopes of embarrassing my brother. That would be step one of my revenge. I begin to laugh.

I finally finish packing and toss the bag into the corner of my room. The next morning we would leave for Ontario. I personally couldn't wait.

-- -- -- -- --

The plane is delayed do to communication problems so we get to go onto a bigger plane. The plane is bigger than I had expected it would be. I sat down on the seat and put a airline pillow behind my neck. I slowly drifted off to sleep.

-- -- -- -- --

I wake up to screaming. Everyone on the plane is standing up. My parents and brother are nowhere to be seen. Then I see a person holding a gun. The person is masked in a ski mask, wearing a black tracksuit.

The maniac is pointing the gun towards me. He/She has his/her finger over the trigger. People are screaming words I don't understand. I want to move, but I'm frozen solid with terror.

The person screams the word, "CHEATER!"

She/He fires. The bullet and everything around are appearing to move in slow motion. Then a scream from behind me as something jumps in front of me, the path of the bullet.

The bullet plunges into my brother. It hits him in the heart and he collapses onto my thighs. There is red bleeding out of a hole in his stomach. He's coughing up blood. My brother grabs my shirt and pulls my closer.

"Richy…" he whispers into my ear, coughing up blood as he struggles to say it.

"No," I whisper back, "don't die yet."

His head falls limp and his eyes lose all life. He was dead. Tears are streaming down my cheeks. I look up to see the murderer walking away.

Everything goes black.

-- -- -- --

I wake up again, this time for real. The dream is glued into my brain like my phone number or the name of my best friends.

There was cold sweat dripping down my forehead. My teeth were chattering. I was in shock that I could have such a terrible nightmare.

A chime whistled and I looked up. The seatbelt sign was on. We would be landing in Toronto soon. I adjusted the pillow behind my neck and looked out the window at the beautiful landscape.

The plane began to dip and pressure was building up in my ears. The plane recoiled when it hit the ground making me feel sick. I noted that I hadn't eaten breakfast and was starving.

The thoughts of the nightmare had passed. I was more focused on finding somewhere to eat. The plane stopped abruptly and I removed my seatbelt. I stood up and stretched.

I marched to the front of the plane and got off. My brother was already off of the plane. He was sitting on a bench reading a science magazine. I crept up on him and sat beside him. My parents got out of the plane and I waved to them.

They walked over to us and gave my brother a thumbs up. I stood up and pasted a smile to my face. We began to head towards the baggage claim and I saw my bags drifting around in a spiral of luggage.


End file.
